Innocent
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: The last thing he remembered, was walking home from school. He'd been excited to go on patrols, eager to brush away the stress of his classes. But he never made it home. Peter is kidnapped and tortured in front of Tony, in order to teach Tony a lesson
1. Chapter 1

The last thing he remembered, was walking home from school. He'd been excited to go on patrols, eager to brush away the stress of his classes. But he never made it home.

He didn't even hear the footsteps coming up behind him, didn't pay attention, because he was too distracted by his own thoughts on his patrols. But, the footsteps came closer, and suddenly there was an arm around his throat, and a taser pressed to his back. Peter let out a grunt of pain before his entire body locked up, electricity running through his body.

The assailant kept the taser on him, as they eased him to the ground, smiling down at him as he continued to shake.

"I've done my research on you, Peter. I know you can take much more than others, so I amped up the voltage on this thing just for you. I also made you a special little something to keep you from running away on me."

Peter didn't know what they were talking about, only able to heave in air when the taser was finally removed. Had his body been working properly, he might have gotten up in time to avoid the hands of the man standing over him. But he felt fuzzy and weak, unable to pull his arm away when it was picked up and stretched out.

The man above him smiled as he pressed a needle to a vein in Peter's arm, voice warping and melting as Peter's mind was reduced to mush.

"Goodnight little spider."

….

That was the last thing that the teenager remembered, but now that he was awake, he had no idea where he was or what was happening.

It was cold, he knew that much. And it may have been dark, but that may have also been because his eyes were closed. His mind was fuzzy and his body was like putty, with no shape or discernible use, but he could hear someone talking.

It was a familiar voice, one that made him feel safe, but the tone was one he hadn't heard before, and that worried him. He didn't know how to feel about it, so, he decided to just figure out who it was first.

"-kay, I promise. I'll get us out of this Peter, just wake up, please. Let me know you're okay."

Tony. That was who the voice belonged to. Peter's head rolled towards the voice, and he did his best to open his eyes.

Blink. Blurred shapes and colours.

Blink. Tony was sitting a few meters away, on a chair with…were those ropes around his wrists and ankles?

"That's it, kid. I'm right here, and we'll be okay."

Peter didn't know where 'here' was, and he was scared, because Tony's voice was shaking, and there was blood trailing down his face from a small cut above his left eye.

His voice came out small and broken. "M-Mr Stark? What's happening?"

Tony's brow creased in concern, as he leaned forward as much as he could, in the chair. "We'll be okay, but I need you to listen to me, because we don't have much time, until he comes back. You have to pull your hands free, you can do it, you're strong enough."

Free of what? Peter rolled his head again, looking down at his hands. He hadn't realised before, but he was laying on a cold, metal table, and his hands and ankles were tied down with thick leather straps. He watched his fingers twitch, and tried to pull at the straps, but he was so weak, he couldn't break free.

Peter let out a whimper, trying as hard as he could. Usually, he was strong enough to lift lockers, and catch cars, but something was wrong.

"I can't do it, Mr Stark. I don't feel so good. I want to go home."

Tony hung his head, cursing, before lifting it again to look at Peter with a reassuring smile.

"I know, buddy. And we will, we'll go home as soon as the others find us. It'll be okay."

Another voice echoed in the dark, and Peter's eyes roamed over his surroundings, only just noticing that they were in a dim lab of some kind.

"Oh, I don't think you will. In fact, I don't think he'll make it out alive."

The voice was the same as the one he remembered from his walk home, and Tony evidently remembered it too, because he lunged forward in his seat, baring his teeth.

"Don't touch him!"

The man laughed, and Peter shivered, curling his toes, and pulling his bare feet in the straps.

"I won't have to, for the most part. Peter was right you know, he can't break free, in fact, the poor boy can hardly concentrate."

Tony's eyes widened and turned back to the teenager on the table, stomach dropping as he took in the unfocused, confused look in Peter's eyes, and the way he pulled weakly at the straps holding him down.

"What did you give him?"

Their captor smiled and walked closer, trailing a finger over Peter's bare side, making him shiver. Peter's shirt had been taken, as well as his shoes, leaving him only in the pants he'd worn to school, and he felt goose bumps raise across his chest as he tried to curl away from the unwanted touch.

"It's a special mix of sedatives and paralytics that I came up with just for him. It'll keep him weak and…vulnerable, so that he can't cause me any trouble while I'm teaching you a lesson."

Tony watched Peter whimper and squirm, trying to get away from the man standing over him.

"What lesson? Who are you?" The longer he got the maniac to talk, the longer the rest of the Avengers had to find them. And they would, because he'd been hit over the head while on the phone to Happy. He'd have called for help by now, and they'd be rescued any minute. They had to be.

"Oh, we don't know each other personally, but I'm very familiar with your work. I was a doctor in a pretty big hospital in New York, and after the mess you made with those aliens, our beds were full. Do you know what it's like to have to hear people, kids, scream for help, and not be able to do anything about it? Because the corridors are full of people that are injured, and there aren't enough of us to help them? Building's came down, they crushed people, you killed people."

Tony's breathing grew faster as he pulled at his restraints. It was always about New York. They'd done their best to save the world, and now he would forever be paying the price for it.

"I'm sorry. We did our best, we tried-"

"I tried! I tried to save them all but we didn't have what we needed! We ran out of blood, there were too many injured! You need to learn there are consequences for your actions. You need to feel what it's like to hear children scream, and beg you for help. I heard this one is quite special to you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who he is."

The doctor leaned over Peter once more. "How is our Spider-Man doing?"

Tony pulled at the ropes once more, willing to do anything to spare the teenager in front of him. "Please, don't hurt him. I'm the one you're mad at, you can do anything you want to me, just don't hurt him."

The Doctor looked over to Stark again, frowning as he shook his head. "You don't get to decide that."

Peter wasn't sure what was happening, all he saw Tony struggling, and yelling at the man, and suddenly his whole body was on fire.

Tony struggled in his chair, begging for The Doctor to stop, as Peter jerked and shook on the table, limbs smacking noisily against the metal. Grunts and moans escaped Peters mouth, as the muscles across his chest contracted, jaw clenching shut.

When the current ceased, Peter's body slumped, muscles twitching restlessly as he panted, and that cruel voice came again.

"Those restraints aren't just there to keep him still. I want you to see the pain you cause, every time you play hero. Because sometimes, there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Peter watched his hand move towards the power switch again, and let out a whimper. "Please, stop."

Tony was straining in his chair, but it was bolted to the floor, and he wasn't strong like Peter, he couldn't break free.

"No! Don't hurt him! Peter!"

The current sparked to life, and Peter shook once more.

Tony yelled profanities as Peter's head smacked repeatedly against the table, a strained scream coming from behind his clenched teeth.

"Stop! Turn it off, you piece of shit! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

The Doctor smiled sadistically as he turned up the dial, making Peters back arch off the table, and scream grow louder as the buzzing of electricity grew in intensity.

Tony's breaths were coming too fast, and he pulled against the ropes hard enough to bruise. "No! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just please stop!"

Peter's head was thrown back, and blood began bubbling from his mouth, rolling down his cheeks

The electricity was turned off and Peter slumped again, looking dazed. The Doctor walked over with a penlight, holding Peter's head still as he shone it in his eyes, before hovering it over the kid's mouth.

"Hmm, looks like he's bitten his cheek. It's not so bad, but it looks like it hurts. I wonder if you've learnt your lesson yet."

Tony's eyes filled with tears as he watched Peter lay helpless while the Doctors fingers probed inside his mouth.

"I have. I've learnt my lesson, let him go."

Peter pulled at his restraints again, clumsy, and uncoordinated, as he turned his head away from the man standing over him, letting out a small, displeased grunt as he did.

Their captor shook his head, looking bored, as he put the penlight away and walked over to Tony.

"I don't think you have. I don't think you've suffered enough."

His fingers were coated in the blood from Peters mouth, and Tony tried to pull away as the man wiped them on his shirt, smearing lines of red across his chest.

"Shall we go another round?"

That seemed to bring Peter back to the present, and he released a sob, turning his head to the side so he wouldn't choke on the blood trailing from his lips.

"Please, stop. I can't…"

Tears fell from Tony's eyes, as Peter sobbed, body shaking with the effort, his sweat soaked hair plastered back on his forehead.

This was all his fault, Peter was innocent, Tony was the one that had hurt so many people. He'd been telling the truth when he said he'd tried, that he'd done his best, but you can't always save everyone, and now Peter was paying the price. And he couldn't save him.

The Doctor walked back to his dial, watching as Peter struggled and cried, begging for the pain to end, panicking at the prospect of being electrocuted again.

"Please, don't do it again! Mr Stark, it hurts, make it stop. I'm scared…please."

The look on the doctor's face wasn't one of pride or pleasure anymore. He looked almost sorry, for what he was doing. Peter's weak cries filled the cold room, and Tony tried to reason with the man hurting them.

"He's only fifteen, he didn't do anything wrong. Please, let him go."

His hand left the dial, and his voice was quieter.

"Maybe I should hurt you instead; give the kid a break."

Tony would have gladly taken Peters place, but didn't get the chance to speak before a weak gurgle rose from the form on the table.

"No. Don't…don't hurt him."

Peter had turned his head to Tony, chest still heaving with sobs, but his eyes were more determined.

The Doctor smirked, looking almost fondly at the teenager. "Look at that, I guess he is a hero. You must be so proud."

Tony didn't have time to respond before Peter was screaming again, the dial turned all the way up. Tony sobbed, helpless, as scream after scream was torn from Peter's throat.

It was the worst kind of pain, because Tony would have done anything to feel it instead of Peter, would have done anything to stop it, but there was nothing that he could do.

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore screaming, there was a loud bang, as the door exploded inwards.

The Doctor jumped in surprise, while Tony sobbed with relief. Steve stormed in, briefly hesitating at the sight of Peter, screaming, and thrashing against the table, before he surged forward and punched the Doctor right in the chest, with so much rage that the force sent him smashing into the wall.

He slumped to the floor, unmoving, and Steve immediately turned off the electrical current, as Natasha, Bruce, and Bucky hurried in.

Peter fell limp against the table, as the current ceased, face falling to the side, so that Tony could see his closed eyes. His bare chest was heaving, straining to pull in air into his exhausted body, and Tony pulled at his restraints, desperate to get to him.

Steve ran over to the teenager, undoing the restraints as he called to him, voice full of concern.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

There was no response, just laboured wet breaths, and Bruce quickly went over to check the kid over.

"Is he okay? Peter!" Tony was in hysterics, yanking at the ropes so hard Natasha thought he might tear his skin, and she and Bucky quickly got them undone.

Bruce looked back at him briefly, before focussing again on his main patient.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Tony quickly shook his head, though it made him dizzy and nauseous to do so. He could have been bleeding out and he wouldn't care, all he cared about was Peter.

He asked again, trying to get to his kid, despite the hands that tried to hold him in his seat.

"Is he okay? That bastard shocked him so many times, and he drugged him with something, he said it was a mixture of sedatives and paralytics."

Bruce sighed and nodded, lifting Peters eyelids to check his pupils. "That's probably why he's having so much trouble breathing. We need to get him to the compound, now."

Tony broke past Natasha's hands and made it to the table, picking up one of Peter's limp hands and letting out a shaky breath at the burns across his wrists.

"I couldn't do anything to save him. He was begging me to help but I…I couldn't. It wasn't even about him, he just wanted to punish me, to teach me a lesson. Peter didn't deserve this."

Bruce took off his jacket and laid it over Peter's exposed chest, trying to keep him warm. "I know, Tony. But it's all okay now. Let's get you both home."

Steve slipped one arm under Peter's knees, and the other under his back, doing his best to be gentle and not to jostle him too much, but the boy was floppy and nothing nut deadweight. His head lolled back on Steve's arm until he shifted his weight a little, and cradled him to his chest, Peter's head falling against his shoulder instead.

Tony couldn't help but think he looked so, so small in Steve's arms, as he brushed the kid's hair back and tucked Bruce's jacket, more firmly around him.

"It's all okay now, Peter. We got you."

…..

They got the two back to the compound in record time, bursting into the med bay in a cacophony of sound and panic.

"Set him down here, and get Tony into a chair, he shouldn't be standing right now."

Steve complied, laying Peter carefully down on the bed and quickly stepping back to allow Bruce room to work. Tony was close behind but Bucky took him firmly by the shoulders and sat him in a chair, gruff voice quiet.

"Let Bruce handle it."

Tony tried to push the soldier's hands away, but wasn't strong enough, as he watched Bruce pull on gloves and place an oxygen cannula under Peter's nose.

"This is my fault, he was trying to punish me, and he hurt Peter to do it."

Natasha turned to him, frowning. "It's not your fault that a psychopath decided to take out his problems on a fifteen-year-old. It doesn't matter now, anyway, he's dead."

Peter lay limp on the hospital bed, looking like a small, broken, doll; as Bruce shone a penlight in his eyes, voice calm.

"I need quiet in here, Peter's going to be confused and possibly agitated when he wakes up, and I don't need any distractions for him. He may not act like himself for a little while, his mind is going to be scrambled, so the less sensory input, the better."

Bruce moved the penlight lower, parting Peter's lips with gentle fingers and inspecting the inside of his mouth to see where the blood was coming from. It was like a switch was flipped; Peter's eyes snapped open, and he let out a grunt as he shoved Bruce away.

Usually, Peter kept his strength under control, but he wasn't thinking clearly, mind scrambled and scared, and he shoved Bruce with so much force that he flew half-way across the room.

Tony leapt to his feet, as Steve lunged for the bed, holding Peter's arms down before he could do anything more than attempt to sit up.

Peter struggled, crying as he tried to get away from the hands pushing him down on the bed. His eyes were open but he was too confused to realise where he was or who was restraining him.

Bruce picked himself off the floor and came back to the bed, as Tony and the others watched, with wet eyes.

"No! No, let me go! Please, don't do it again! Tony!" Steve's breath hitched as he pressed Peter's arms to his chest, trying to avoid the burn marks on his wrists, while doing his best to hold the kid still as he kicked and thrashed.

"Peter, you're okay. You're safe now, we've got you! Stop fighting me!"

Bruce grabbed a syringe and found a vein in Peter's arm, quickly injecting the strengthened morphine as Peter sobbed.

"It hurts, Tony please, help me."

The boy's thrashing calmed some, as the pain relief took hold, relaxing him; but he still pulled at Steve's hold and cried.

Tony stayed back until Bruce nodded at him, allowing him forward.

"Peter? It's me, it's Tony."

The teenager's eyes were glassy and tired, but they found Tony and his face crumpled again. "Tony. Help me."

Tony looked at Cap, words shaking. "Let him go, let me hold him."

Bruce wanted Peter calm too, but didn't want to risk injuries either of them further. "We need to keep him lying flat if we can, the repetitive shocks could have affected his spinal cord and I don't want to take any chances."

Peter didn't know where he was, or who was with him apart from Tony, and he was so scared. Tony couldn't let that continue.

"Please."

Bruce sighed, giving in, and nodded.

Steve looked about as ready to cry as Tony did, as he slowly released Peter's arms, allowing the boy to clumsily reach for his hero, weak fingers pulling at Tony's shirt until he got the message and took him in his arms, hugging him close.

"You're okay now, Pete. I've got you. I told you they'd find us. Everything's going to be okay."

Peter whimpered, hands fisting into the fabric of Tony's shirt over his back, as he trembled.

"Shh, it's okay. We're safe now, I've got you."

Tony finally laid Peter back down, quickly taking his hand in his grasp and squeezing tight when he let out a whimper at the lost contact.

"Tony!"

"I'm right here, kiddo. I'm not leaving you."

Those bright eyes blinked heavily, and his voice was weak from all the screaming he'd done.

"I'm scared."

Tony bit his lip and took a deep breath before answering, feeling his cheeks wet with tears. "I know, buddy, but he's gone now, do you understand? He won't hurt you ever again. No one will, I promise."

This calmed Peter down, and Tony brushed a hand through the teenager's hair, watching his eyes dip lower.

"Go to sleep, Pete. I'll be right here."

He didn't want to, he didn't want to meet The Doctor in his dreams, but he couldn't fight it, as Tony brushed a gentle hand over his cheeks, wiping away the last of his tears.

He fell asleep with his hero's hand in his, and the promise that he was safe.


	2. Chapter 2

"He's doing okay, better than most would after what he's been through."

"What about the hand?" May sounded so worried, and Peter winced from where he lay in bed; he hated worrying her.

Bruce answered, and Peter felt guilty for listening to their conversation from two rooms away, but he hated being talked about and kept out of things.

"The tremor isn't anything to worry about, and should lessen with time, as will the trouble speaking. A lot of the body systems function through the use of electrical currents and charges; the heart, brain, neural pathways, and muscle contractions, all rely on these currents to operate, so a lot could have gone wrong. But I've checked him over and tested everything, and he's doing very well. His heart is good, there's no permanent damage to the brain, and he's not experiencing any loss of sensation, which I thought he would. I know you're worried, but Peter is doing even better than I had expected, and he's only going to improve with time."

That was good news. Bruce had talked to him about the side effects he'd been experiencing, but hadn't mentioned how bad it could have been. It made him feel a little less ruined.

But still, how scared would criminals be when Spider-Man's hand shook, and it took forever to get one joke out? They'd only laugh at him, and it would be worse at school.

May's voice came again, but this time it was Tony that answered. "What about…other side effects?"

Peter knew she was talking about PTSD, and honestly, he was worried about it too.

"I'm going to keep a security detail on him at all times, when he's outside of the compound, Happy will lead it, Peter trusts him. And I was thinking we could home-school him for a little while, until he feels okay enough to go back."

May's voice was quiet and sad. "He loves school."

Tony's was the same. "I know."

Peter had only been away for a couple of days, but he was already worried about how much work he was missing. The constant texts from Ned weren't making him feel any better, but he couldn't tell him what really happened, so May had made up something about Peter working on a special project for Tony. Which was true if you counted being tortured, and recovering from said torture, as a special project.

May's voice was more determined now, less wobbly. "He needs to talk to someone about what happened, a professional."

Peter could practically see the way Tony would fiddle with his watch as he spoke, one of his many nervous tics. Peter knew he felt guilty, and that May was probably mad at him, but it was all stupid, because it hadn't even been Mr Starks fault.

"I have a friend, someone Peter knows already. He used to work with ex-military and help them to adjust to life after their service, help with PTSD and all that. I've already spoken to him, he's coming tonight."

May let out a small breath, like a relieved sigh, and Tony's voice rose by a fraction. "Does that sound okay, Pete?"

Peter froze.

Bruce scoffed. "He's not- "

Tony interrupted and Peter rolled his eyes. "He's listening. Hit the call button if you're okay with talking to Sam tonight."

Peter sighed and stretched out an arm, pressing the call button and listening to Bruce grunt in displeasure as it chimed.

Tony came walking in a few moments later, and sat on the edge of the bed, as Peter rolled onto his side, away from him.

"You shouldn't listen to other people's conversations, you know. It's rude." His voice was soft, lacking its usual energy, and his hand found Peter's hip. The teenager curled tighter into a ball, under his blankets, finding the weight of the hand comforting.

"I do-don't like it w- w- when you talk about me like I'm not….here." Talking was hard. Bruce had said it was something to do with the disruption of neural connections, and that it would pass with time. But it still made Peter feel like shutting his mouth forever, and never speaking again.

"You weren't there, that was the point. We aren't cutting you out of anything, Peter, but you've been through a lot, and we're just trying to figure out the best way to help you."

Peter rolled back slightly, enough to look at Tony with a frown.

"Why don't you just a-ask m-me?"

Tony looked more ragged than he had in a long time, with butterfly strips holding the cut on his forehead closed, and heavy bags under his eyes that told Peter he had not been sleeping.

"We don't want you worrying about little things like school, and homework, right now. We can stress over the details, you just focus on getting better."

Peter let out an annoyed huff, glaring at the older man, because he still wasn't getting it.

"I'm not a child. I want to be a-able to…make those decisions, I w-want to have a say! I have a choice in what happens to m-me!"

Tony's eyes widened a fraction, as he saw the anger in Peters eyes. Of course, he wanted to be included in discussions about his own health and future, and why shouldn't he? But it was more than just wanting to be treated as an adult; it was the need to have control over his circumstances, because of how violently that had been taken away from him.

Tony nodded. "I'm sorry, you're right." He looked genuinely hurt by Peter's harsh tone, and looked down at his shoes as he stood from the bed, uncharacteristically reserved.

He turned, about to leave, when Peter shot out a hand, catching Tony's sleeve with his bad hand. He tried to ignore the way it trembled as he spoke.

"Mr Stark…you know I'm n-not mad at you, right? I d-don't bl…ame you for what happened?"

Tony looked down at the shaking hand on his arm, and Peter saw his jaw clench before he forced an unconvincing smile, and patted Peters fingers.

"I know, thanks kid."

Peter didn't believe him, as he let go of his sleeve and watched him walk away, head still low.

Although Tony was physically fine, he knew that the concern for PTSD shouldn't only be put on him, but also his mentor.

He really should have known that the universe wasn't finished with him, because he could never catch a break.

He'd been in the lab, tinkering with his web shooters, and getting frustrated with his stupid, shaking hand. The others didn't like to leave him alone for too long, worried about him freaking out or something, but he needed some alone time, time to think, before Sam came and made him talk about his feelings.

Evidently that was the wrong move, because it wasn't long before there were footsteps behind him.

He didn't turn around, sighing as he adjusted the firing mechanism on his web shooter. "I told you I d-didn't need to be checked u-up on."

Suddenly, Peter's spider sense was going nuts, the hairs on his arms standing up on end, and his whole body tingling as if anticipating something.

His heart pounded in his chest as he turned around, a shaky breath escaping him as he saw who it was.

The Doctor, with his bloodied and bruised face, snarling smile with teeth bared as he sauntered towards Peter.

The teenager was frozen in fear, shaking his head, and backing away from him so suddenly that the table behind him crashed to the floor.

"Hello, Peter."

The teenager felt as if he were in some horrible nightmare, words tumbling from his mouth as he hyperventilated, tripping over the mess on the ground and struggling to stay on his feet.

"No, you're…you're…"

The doctor came closer, his dark grey hair mattered with blood on the side of his head, and his steps were more shuffled than when Peter had first seen him, evidence of his injuries from Cap.

"Very much alive. They were so concerned with their pet spider, they didn't even check to see if they'd succeeded in killing me."

Peter knew he should do something, that he should fight, or call for help, but he was so thoroughly paralyzed by fear, there was nothing he could do.

The crash of the table must have alerted the others, because suddenly, Tony and Bruce were at the glass doors of the lab, slamming their fists against them and screaming for him, alarms sounding all throughout the building.

The Doctor didn't look concerned, shrugging as he stepped towards Peter. "I've locked it, and I know the glass is bullet proof, they won't get in for ten minutes at least. Which is more than enough time."

Peter saw Tony and Bruce yelling, slamming against the glass, but they couldn't get through, they wouldn't get in fast enough.

The Doctor came closer, towering over Peter, and scowling at his raised hands, as the teenager attempted to protect himself. His voice was harsh and angry.

"You weren't supposed to live. Tony was supposed to watch you die."

Peter let out a terrified sob, scrambling away from his greatest fear. "Please! D-don't! Tony hel-!"

This time his words were cut off by a sharp strike to the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Pain flared through his head and face, across his cheek where he'd taken the blow, and he lay panting the ground, looking at The Doctor standing over him. Dizziness shook his vision and made the room spin and he tried to focus on what he was saying.

The man tossed his iron knuckled away, and pulled out a syringe instead. "You're made of tougher stuff than other people, so I made this especially for you. Do you know what it is?"

Peter tried his best to crawl away, to make it to the glass doors separating him from help, lifting his throbbing face, to watch as Tony tore apart the locking mechanism of the door, trying to get in. He lifted a shaky hand towards them, seeing Bruce's agonised face as he watched, Tony's desperate tears.

The Doctors hands found Peter's shoulders and flipped him onto his back, smiling down at him as he pressed the needle into the teenager's arm.

"This is vecuronium, it's a paralytic agent, and will act as a neuromuscular blocker. This is even better than the straps I had you in last time, because it not only paralysis your muscles to stop you from getting away, it also stops your chest from expanding. In just a few minutes, you won't be able to breathe, and by the time your hero's get in here, you will have asphyxiated. I know, they're the Avengers, they'll get in eventually, but let's hope it takes them long enough for you to sustain permanent brain damage at least."

Peter felt the moment the drug entered his system; his hands, that had previously been shakily pressing The Doctors arms away from him, became weak, before going limp completely, slipping from him to thump against the floor.

He felt all his muscles relax, melting like microwaved cheese, and he was defenceless before The Doctor once more.

It was just like before, only this time he didn't even have any restraints to fight against; he couldn't even twitch a finger. The seconds ticked by, and Peter's breaths got slower and slower, until his chest refused to expand anymore. He wasn't breathing.

His eyes slipped closed, but The Doctors voice found him, clear and pleased.

"The best thing about vecuronium is that it won't knock you out. You're going to suffocate slowly and feel it all. So, I want you to see this."

Hands turned his head to side, and rough fingers pried eyes open, forcing him to watch as Tony yelled, bloodied hands slamming against the glass to no avail. Bruce began gesturing wildly, panicked, before rushing off, out of view.

"I want you to watch them realise you're going to die, I want you to watch them give up."

Peter's lungs were screaming, begging, for air but he could give them none.

Suddenly, Sam and Cap were sprinting to the glass doors too, probably having heard the alarms.

The Doctor made an annoyed grunt before sighing and deciding it was good that they were there. "More witnesses of your death. It's been a minute since you stopped breathing, soon you'll pass out from lack of oxygen and then your brain will start to die. Good bye, Peter Parker."

Peter would have flinched, had he been able to move, as Natasha stormed in front of the door and started firing, cracks spider-webbing across the doors, but refusing to break. Bruce came back, pulling a gurney behind him, covered in various medical supplies, which would be useful if they could get in.

The Doctor began laughing at their attempts to help, and Peter felt himself growing faint, mind slipping as he went longer without air. His body screamed with the need for oxygen but his mind was screaming one thing. He was going to die.

Natasha stepped back once she ran out of bullets, ten of them, lodged in the glass, and Cap stepped forward instead. Peter's vision grew blurry, black spots appearing as Steve threw his fists against the glass, right over the cracks the bullets had made, until finally, it broke.

The glass caved inwards and Steve practically tore the doors completely off their frames as he stormed through, charging towards The Doctor, and tearing him off Peter to tackle him to the ground. Without him to hold Peter's eyes open, they slipped closed and Peter felt himself drifting away.

Tony charged through with the others, tearing towards Peter as Cap tackled The Doctor to the ground, forcing him on his chest and pulling one of his arms behind his back.

"You might want to hurry; his brain is dying. Well, here's hoping." Steve usually had a good handle on his anger, but seeing the bastard hurting a defenceless kid, and laughing about it, sent him over the edge. He grit his teeth and yanked The Doctors arm backwards, earning a scream of pain and a loud snap as the man's arm broke.

Peter heard the scream, before another sound met his ears, one like a fist striking a jaw, and the screaming stopped.

He couldn't concentrate on much, a hairs breadth away from passing out, but then there were hands on him, one gentle one turning his head to the ceiling, before something was pressing around his mouth and blowing air into his lungs.

Everything was sharp again, his brain greedily sucking up all the oxygen provided, and using it to sharpen his every sense. He just wanted it to all be over, he wanted to pass out, but Bruce's voice came clear and hurried.

"Peter, I am so sorry, I'll try to be as quick and gentle as I can. I'm sorry, kid."

Tony's voice came next, panicked. "He can hear you?!"

"Yes, I could see what that monster was doing, and I knew what he gave Peter. It's a paralytic, Peter can't breathe on his own, but he can hear and feel everything. I have to intubate him, and it's not going to be pleasant. Tony, hold his hand and talk to him. Steve, come and hold this, squeeze it once every second, until I get this in."

Peter felt the thing over his mouth shift slightly as it changed hands, the rhythmic puffs of air letting him know that it was an ambu bag, pumping air into his lungs. May watched enough Grey's anatomy for him to remember that much, and that being intubated was no picnic.

He almost wished that Steve would stop pumping it, and just let him suffocate until he passed out, or punch him and knock him out. He didn't want things forced into his throat, he didn't want to be a victim again.

But there wasn't anything he could do, there was metal in his mouth, holding it open, before tubes snaked down his throat. They would have choked him had his body been working properly.

Bruce apologized over and over, as Tony muttered small encouragements and assurances that it would be okay.

Peter almost didn't believe him, but Tony held one of his limp hands in both of his, rubbing the back of it soothingly, and he felt his other hand being taken by Steve's. He may have been slowly asphyxiating, and having plastic forced down his throat, as they tried to save him from The Doctor for the second time, but they were all there, and they would take care of him.

He had a team, and they would do anything to protect him, no matter how many times he needed saving. Not many fifteen-year olds can say they have the Avengers on their side.

"I'm sorry, it's almost over, I promise."

Peter felt tears escape his eyes, and heard Tony when he let out a breath as he saw them.

"Oh god, Pete."

Another laugh came, one that Peter never wanted to hear again. "The torture never ends for your little protégé, does it? Tell me, do you think you've learnt your lesson Stark?"

Heels clicked on the ground, towards the voice, before Peter could hear The Doctor being dragged away, laughter becoming fainter. Steve let out a warning. "Natasha!"

But, Tony stopped him with a small voice, shaking with rage and grief. "Let her."

This time it was Sam that spoke. "Tony, I don't think that's a-"

"Let her! Look at what he did to Peter!"

It was silent for a moment, as Peter felt his tears trail down his temples, before Sam's voice came back, thick with emotion.

"You're right. Fuck that guy."

The laughter was hysterical, from where Peter could hear it a few rooms away, before it was cut of abruptly by a gunshot. Peter felt Steve's hand squeeze his at the sound, and heard him sigh when a second shot was fired.

The tapping heels came back. "He's dead for good this time."

Tony looked down at Peter, as Bruce finally got the tube in. "Got it. Sam grab the board." He attached the ambu bag back to the tube, and began pumping it, Tony watching as Peter's chest finally rose and fell again.

The others were working to get Peter onto the back board and gurney, pulling straps across his chest and lax limbs, but Tony just held the kids hand and wiped the tears from his pale skin.

"You'll be okay, Pete. We've got you."

The lab was a mess of broken glass and scattered equipment, and Tony couldn't help but think it looked a little like a battlefield. One that Peter had been trapped in, alone, with the man that had already tried to kill him only a few days before. God, how had he let it happened again?

The air was sombre and quiet, as they got the teenager to a room in the med bay, Bruce attaching him to a respirator and a dozen other machines. It wasn't until he got out the reinforced restraints that Tony intervened.

"Bruce, you can't."

The others looked unsure, and unhappy about it too, but the reality was that it was needed. Bruce's voice was sad and quiet.

"I'm sorry, I know what it means to Peter, but I can't have him waking up and tearing the tube out. I'm really, really, sorry. I wish I didn't have to."

Tony pressed a shaking hand to his mouth as he watched Bruce tie down his kid. He'd been through too much already, and now this really was like the last time. He didn't know how Peter would ever get over it.

Bruce finished with the straps before taking another syringe, as Tony came to the bed and stroked Peter's hair back, trying to ignore the respirator in his mouth.

"Peter, it's all going to be okay. I'm going to give you a sedative, to give you a break from all this. Hopefully by the time you wake up, all this equipment will be gone. So, I want you to focus on Tony, and think of something that makes you happy, as you fall asleep, okay?"

Tony tried his best to hold in his tears, and his grief, as he brushed his hand through Peter's hair. "I'm here, kid. I'm not leaving you. None of us will. We'll stay right here with you the whole time. You can sleep now, you're safe. I…I promise."

He was reluctant to give out promises since he'd been so abysmal at keeping his last one, but his voice and touch helped to calm the teenager nonetheless, and Peter quickly allowed himself to sink into the darkness, away from all the pain.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony rubbed his hand over his forehead as he watched Peters chest rise and fall, finally without the use of machines. Bruce had extubated him as soon as he was strong enough to breathe on his own, and removed the restraints as quickly as possible.

Peter was looking much better without all the horrible equipment, but he was still under the last of the sedation.

Tony wanted desperately to see those eyes open again, to know that Peter was okay, but he also knew that Peter had a lot to recover from; and that maybe, it was better for him to remain asleep.

"I should have checked that he was dead the first time."

Tony closed his eyes at the voice, Steven's quiet tone, being answered by Natasha. "This is on all of us."

Tony shook his head and opened his eyes but didn't turn to them, just kept watching Peter's chest. "No, it's on me. I brought him into this mess, I gave him the suit, I was the one The Doctor wanted to punish. It's my fault."

Bruce took one of Peters wrists and held two fingers there, staring at his watch as he spoke, tone determined and final.

"You all love the spotlight too much to be any good at playing the blame game. The only one that's responsible is The Doctor, and he's gone. We all make mistakes, no one checked that he was dead the first time, because we were too worried about Peter. That was a mistake, but it doesn't put anyone at fault. Peter should have been able to fight him off, The Doctor was already injured and he may be a sociopath but beneath that he's just an ordinary man. Peter could have killed him with one punch, but he couldn't because he was terrified, we all were. We don't blame him for that because it's not his fault. So, if you want to help Peter, stow the guilt and be there for him."

Tony had a lot of guilt, he didn't know if he could shove it all away. He should have protected him, he should have-

Tony saw something move in the corner of his vision and his head snapped to it, watching Peter's hand start to shake on the sheets where it rested, letting Tony know that he was waking up.

"Peter?"

The room grew quiet and tense, as everyone waited, inching closer to see if the teenager would wake.

Peter frowned a little, eyebrows furrowing as a shaky breath escaped his lips.

"Pete? Wake up, kid."

His hands curled into fists, gripping at the blankets as he squirmed slightly in the bed, and another breath left his mouth, but it sounded more like a sob.

Tony lifted a hand to the hair hanging over Peter's forehead, brushing back the drooping curls back, in the way he knew May liked to do to calm the teenager down, as he waited for him to open his eyes.

But Peter squeezed them shut, letting out quiet words between whimpers. "Is…is he g-gone?"

He sounded so afraid, body rigid in the bed, as if bracing for something, bad hand trembling. Tony's heart broke a little, and he saw Steve wipe his eyes in his peripheral vision.

Tony took a shaky breath, as tears fell down Peters cheeks, and he wiped them away with a thumb across his cheek as he replied.

"Yeah, he's gone. For good this time."

Peter let out a strangled sob, as if he were trying to hold it all in, and reluctantly opened his eyes, peeking down at his wrists.

Tony's stomach dropped, as he realised. Peter was checking to see if he was tied down again. God, would this kid ever get a break?

The mechanic tried not to cry with him, as he shook his head, keeping his voice quiet and putting his big hand over Peter's clenched fist.

"That's all over with now. You're safe." He hated that it wasn't the first time they'd been in this position, trying to convince Peter he was safe, especially after failing to protect him. But Peter heard his words, and let it all out, body shaking as he sobbed.

Tony's own eyes became wet as he watched the teenager, Peter's hand turning in his gentle grip, releasing the blanket, and tugging at Tony instead.

"Oh Pete, kid I'm so sorry." He quickly leant forward and wrapped Peter up in his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed and just letting him curl into his chest, holding him as he sobbed miserably.

He was shaking so badly, breaths being torn from him with every sob. It sounded painful in his recently abused throat, and Tony couldn't help but worry the kid was going to pass out if he didn't calm down.

He rubbed his hands over the teenagers back as Steve stepped forward, eyes damp. "Peter, we are so sorry that we didn't stop him sooner. This is our f-"

Peter wiped at his eyes as he looked up at his hero, eyes wide as he interrupted. "I t-thought I was going to die alone. I was too scared to stop him, but then you all came…you s-saved me."

Steve took in a deep breath, shoulders sagging as Peter took the weight of guilt from them. A small smile graced his face as he nodded.

"We'll always save you, Pete."

Tony relaxed his arms, no longer holding Peter so tightly, but the kid was so exhausted he simply stayed curled to his chest, and Tony didn't mind at all.

Peter looked around at everyone in the room, and he looked so trusting, they couldn't help but lean forward, ready to give him anything he asked for.

"Is he rea-really gone? You checked?"

Natasha nodded from the back of the room, where she leant against the wall, arms crossed. "I checked, myself. Twice."

Steve looked upset about her euphemism, and Peter's gaze drifted to her shoes, and the blood that was splattered over them. He remembered the two gunshots he'd heard, and the way The Doctors laughter was abruptly cut off. He thought he should be scared, or….something, but it just made him feel safe.

He sighed, finally relaxing. "Thanks."

Natasha smiled, and Peter's return smile was cut off by a yawn, body sagging further into Tony's chest.

The older man smiled down at him, as he laid him back down in his pillows. "Go to sleep, Pete. We can talk more when you're feeling better."

The teenager really liked that sound of that, and rubbed his eyes as Tony pulled his blankets up on his chest, tucking him in. His eyes closed, as his hand found Tony's arm, stopping him from leaving, and he fell asleep with a sigh.

"I love you guys."

…..

Peter sighed, sinking further down into is soft pillows, and snuggling down into his blanket. But something was off; he wasn't lying on his side anymore. He was lying flat on the mattress, which most people wouldn't find strange, except that Peter never slept on his back that way. He had always been a tummy sleeper, and also, he didn't remember rolling over.

He tried to tug his hands up, to roll on his stomach and tuck his hands under his pillow like he usually did, but they wouldn't move.

Something was holding them down. Peter looked down, praying it wasn't what he thought it was, but there they were, those horrid straps encircling his wrists again.

A shuddering breath pushed past Peters lips, as he tugged against them with everything he had. They wouldn't budge, and a sob rose in his chest as he struggled, calling or help as he tried to stay calm.

"Help me! Tony! Steve! Anybody, please!"

Peter blinked, and suddenly Tony was there, standing over him and laughing. "Little spiders stuck in his web. So pathetic."

Tony's frown was familiar, but his voice, it wasn't his at all; but Peter remembered it so clearly.

"I'm going to hurt you now, so, I need you to stay very still." His face began morphing, mouth stretching into a smile, before it changed completely, becoming the face, he dreaded most in the world.

The Doctor smiled down at him, his face coming close to Peters as he pulled out a needle, pressing the tip hard enough to Peter's throat that he could feel it slowly pierce his skin.

"Goodbye Peter."

He was back, he was killing him, he-

Peter woke with a scream, sitting straight up in bed, arms out in front of him as if warding someone off.

People came running in, people Peter trusted, but he couldn't look at them without thinking about the way their faces could so easily turn into _his._

Tony came to the bed, hands out to comfort Peter, but he was still shaking, still so terrified, that he flinched away, curling into his pillows.

"No! Please don't!"

Tony pulled his hands back, as everyone watched, tears falling down Peter's face as he curled into a ball.

"Peter-"

The teenager shook his head, unwilling to look at the older man. "Please, s-stay back. Where's Aunt May? I want M-May."

Peter didn't look at him, but he knew the face he would make, that hurt look that he would do his best to hide. His voice was quiet, and Peter felt awful for how sad it sounded.

"I'll get her."

Peter stayed huddled against his pillow until he came back, May hurrying in ahead of him. She'd been away for just a few days, to sort out things at home, and Peter had missed her.

She hurried over to the bed, quickly taking Peter in her arms as he cried, clinging to her tightly. He sank into her hold, squeezing his eyes shut as she patted his hair and whispered to him, rocking slightly.

"It's okay, Peter. I'm here, I'm here, baby. Shhh, you're okay."

Tony kept his head low as he left, unable to stop his brain from overplaying those moments over and over. The way Peter had flinched away from him, the way he had his hands out as if warding away the danger, like he was the danger.

Steve put his hand on the older man's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but Tony shook it off.

"Tony-"

He shook his head, as if he wasn't hurt. "I'll be in my lab, let me know if he needs anything."

The others filed out of Peter's room, giving the little family some privacy, and watching sadly as Tony left.

It seemed like the hurt never stopped.

Steve left him for a little while, giving him time, but eventually went to follow Stark. He found him in his lab, as promised. He was fiddling with something, or trying to, but his hands shook so badly he ended up slamming the project onto the bench.

Steve approached cautiously, and could tell when Tony noticed his presence, by a slight turn of the head, before the mechanic started speaking.

"He blames me."

Steve took the seat next to him, at the bench, frowning. "No, he doesn't."

Tony didn't look at him, staring off into space as he continued as if the other man hadn't spoken at all. "He said that he doesn't but he does." He blinked, eyes becoming wet as he looked down at his hands in his lap.

"He flinched away from me. He couldn't look at me and his hands were…it was like he was trying to protect himself from something bad. From me."

Steve didn't know what to say. "Tony-"

Starks voice was smaller than Steve had ever heard it. "He was so scared."

Tony was usually so unfazed by everything, he always acted as if life was a joke, like he was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. But that's just what it was; acting. Tony had never been this vulnerable before, but then, he'd never had a kid before either.

"I'm sure it was just the nightmare. He's been through a lot, more than any fifteen-year-old should. Just give him time, I'm sure it's not about you."

Tony sighed, but didn't look up. His shoulders sagged, as if they weren't so heavy, but that didn't make him any less miserable. Cap tried again.

"He calmed down a little after his Aunt got there. Sam's going to talk to him now, hopefully it'll help."

Tony really, really hoped that it would, and that Cap was right about the nightmare being the cause of Peters sudden aversion to him, because although he would never go near Peter again, if that's what the kid wanted, he knew it would kill him inside.

….

"I don't want to t-talk about it."

Sam followed close behind the teenager, trying to get him to listen to reason. "We don't have to talk about it right away, Peter. But you will need to eventually, you can't just repress these sorts of experiences, it's not healthy."

Peter sighed, squeezing his bad hand into a fist, as he made his way into the elevator, wanting to head up to the kitchen for some lunch. "I just want to forget it all and m-move on."

Sam sighed following him in, shaking his head a little. "I know man, I do; but that's just not how it works. Don't you think Tony has tried forgetting? Or Natasha? Bucky? Clint?"

Peter frowned, confused. "They were tortured?"

Sam nodded, face sombre. He wished he didn't have to be talking to such a young kid about things so intense but, there they were. "Yeah, and you can bet Tony didn't deal with it in a healthy way. Going through something like that, can have lasting effects, and I know you don't want to face it, but you need to. But you aren't on your own, everyone in this building wants to help, and most of them know exactly what you're going through."

Peter hadn't known. The elevator started moving, as Sam continued.

"Speaking of Tony; the way you reacted after your nightmare…" The question was implied, and Peter shook his head quietly, playing with his fingers.

"I don't blame him. I just…the dream felt so r-real, and some of it was made of me-memories. You guys were all there when the b-bad stuff happened, but Aunt May wasn't. I just wanted to feel like I wasn't there anymore."

Sam nodded, and was about to say something else when the elevator made a grinding noise, before the whole thing shook, and stopped.

Peter's heart immediately began to race, and he pressed his palms to the cold metal surrounding them, as Sam sighed.

"Dammit, I thought Tony fixed this. Must be left over damage from when Thor decided to use his lightning inside."

Peter could barely hear what was being said, his chest was too tight, the metal was too cold, too similar.

"No, no, no."

The teenager pulled in harsh gasps of air, but it was as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the small space. He had to get out.

"Peter?" Sam's voice sounded far away, and Peter shook his head, rapidly, trying to get the horrid laugh out of his mind. 'Bye bye, Peter Parker'

"No, this can't be happening again. I have t-to get out, I have to escape, I c-can't let him get me."

Sam raised his hands cautiously, worried about Peter's exceedingly panicked mumbles.

"Peter, everything's okay, the elevator is just stuck. We're safe so, I'm going to call Tony for some help."

Peter's breathing only became more strangled, as if The Doctors hands had found his throat and began squeezing.

"No! I have to get out, I can't be trapped again! I can't-"

Sam placed a hand on the kid's shoulder, attempting to calm him down, but this seemed to only frighten him more, and the teenagers hand shot out to push Sam away. The soldier slammed against the metal, with a grunt, before Peter released him and turned back to the elevator doors.

"I can't breathe, I c-can't get out. I couldn't move, I couldn't even think, I was so weak and I couldn't break free." Sam started to realize what was happening. Peter was having a panic attack, the confined space, and the way they had no control over getting out, had triggered memories and fear that Peter couldn't control. The here and now, were being mixed with the past, confusing him further.

Peter seemed to be shaking all over, as he curled one of his hands into a fist as his voice raised to a yell. "The straps were so tight, and the drugs made me useless! I'm not useless anymore, I'm not weak, I can do this! I can do it, I'm strong enough! I have to get out!"

Sam flinched as Peter began slamming his fist into the metal, creating dents and warping the shiny doors.

"I HAVE TO GET OUT!" Peter was screaming, throwing his fist against the metal harder and faster, and Sam knew he couldn't stop him with force, so he began quietly talking, creating a calm background for the kid to focus on.

"Peter, we're okay. We're safe, I'm here, slow your breathing."

Pete slammed his fists harder, screaming as the metal crumpled under his hand, as tears fell down his face for the second time that day. He was just so sick of being weak, he couldn't be trapped anymore. He was suffocating, and he couldn't save himself. He could never save himself.

He let out a sob, begging for help.

"Please! Let me out!"

Sam was about to reach for him, worried about how badly he was hyperventilating, when the elevator doors creaked open, with the rest of the Avengers on the other side.

Peter let out a gasp as Tony looked down at him, face creased in concern. The elevator had stopped a little before getting to the next floor, and only the top part of the elevator opened to the kitchen.

Tony looked down at them, reaching a hand down to Peter to help him up. "You okay? Come on, Pete, let's get you out of there."

Tony looked down at that tear stained, terrified face, and thought he might not want to touch him at all. Maybe Peter would flinch away again, or he'd ask for anyone else, but instead, the kid took his hand and accepted the help, out of the hole.

He lifted Peter out, and was immediately wrapped in a hug, Peter's shaking arms wrapping around him as he sobbed in relief.

"You came! You found me!"

Tony sucked in a surprised breath, and wrapped his arms around Peter as he shuddered against him.

"Of course, I did. I'll always find you."

He rubbed the kids back as Cap lifted Sam out of the elevator. Peter's voice was as warped and broken as the elevator doors he'd been punching, and it broke Tony's heart.

"I was so scared. I thought he'd gotten me again, and I co-couldn't get out. I don't want to be scared anymore."

Tony hugged him tighter, and pressed his cheek to Peter's hair. "You don't have to be scared, Peter. He won't hurt you ever again."

Peter whimpered against Tony's shirt, and the mechanic vowed, there and then, that no one would ever touch his kid, and live. "Please don't leave me."

Tony held him, feeling that racing heart hammer against his own, and made a promise. "I won't."

It would take a while for Peter to heal completely, and for Tony too, but he knew he wouldn't have to do it alone. What fifteen-year-old could say he had the Avengers on his team? Despite what he'd been through, Peter knew he was the luckiest teenager in the world.


End file.
